


(Your Love Is Better Than) Ice Cream

by sinsuality



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF
Genre: American Idol Mansion, Ice Cream, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinsuality/pseuds/sinsuality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He put another spoonful in his mouth and closed his eyes in theatrical bliss. Or maybe it was real bliss. With Adam it was always kind of hard to tell the difference.</em>
</p><p>Adam is a big fan of ice cream. Kris doesn't understand what the fuss is all about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Your Love Is Better Than) Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Sarah McLachlan song.

Two streets away from the mansion was a Baskin Robbins. 

Kris had never been particularly fond of ice cream. He liked it, sure, he just forgot it existed most of the time. This to the utter dismay of Adam, who saw it not merely as a snack but, as he had exclaimed many a time, as a lifesaver. Adam could cheer himself up with a great number of things – classic examples being a fresh coat of nail polish, the smell of leather and Kris’s face when he was brutally torn from his sleep by a rather inconsiderate alarm clock - but there were very few things that lifted his mood the way ice cream did. Not that Adam’s mood needed a lot of lifting. In fact, Kris was pretty sure that on a scale of 1 to 10 on happiness, Adam was at a constant 11. However, when he felt the urge to get to, say, 15, ice cream got him there fastest. 

Because Adam was someone who couldn’t bear the thought of having fun all by himself, he spent an inordinate amount of time trying to convince Kris of the _divinity_ of Baskin Robbins’s ice cream, that made you go absolutely _out of your mind_ with pleasure. The way Adam could talk about food as if it were sex was something Kris took great pleasure in making fun of, together with Allison, who, if Kris were really honest, tended to do the same with a particularly nice brand of coffee she had recently discovered. He was just too nice to tease her with it the way he did with Adam. The fact was, Adam was completely deserving of teasing, what with his excessive howling upon discovering on the second day in the mansion that Kris sometimes - and it was only sometimes! – _wore socks to bed_. Why anyone would want to marry a guy that wore socks to bed was something Adam couldn’t possibly fathom, and after declaring this on a loop for at least two evenings and one afternoon, he had, against all logic, put a pair of black and silver striped socks on Kris’s pillow, just so he would never have to complain of cold feet. 

It was only fair, then, that Kris wailed theatrically for days whenever Adam even so much as _hinted_ on going to Baskin Robbins together just to share the _heavenly experience_ of cotton candy ice cream melting on his tongue, or whatever exotic flavour he had discovered that time. Unfortunately, nothing encouraged Adam as much as a resistant Kris, so on a drizzly Friday morning between rehearsals – when any normal human being would want anything _but_ ice cream – Kris found himself quite unexpectedly standing in front of Baskin Robbins’s impressive display with a particularly excited looking Adam elbowing him repeatedly and pointing out all the different flavours, as if he were a child that couldn’t read the freaking tags by himself. In the end, he chose one scoop of vanilla, which pissed off Adam more than haircuts gone wrong ever could. 

It was okay. Not heavenly particularly. It was just vanilla.

“That’s cause it’s _vanilla!_ ” Adam exclaimed on their way back, nearly upsetting his cone with three extravagantly coloured scoops. “You were supposed to pick a flavour they don’t actually sell at every street corner! You’re such a spoil-sport, Kris. My god, next time I'm bringing Allie.”

Adam avoided the subject of ice cream altogether after that particular morning, and Kris was more than happy to go by without having to hear the words Baskin Robbins thrown at him every other day. One night, however, Kris was sitting cross-legged on the bed fiddling with his iPod when Adam stormed into their room the way he sometimes did – how Kris hadn’t died of a heart attack yet was completely beyond him – and shoved a cone under his nose.

“Lick,” he ordered, which was, frankly, something he hadn’t quite thought Adam would ever say to him. 

Kris looked up at him with what he was sure was a completely uncomprehending look. 

Adam rolled his eyes. “Lick!” he repeated, a little more impatient this time, and Kris’s eyes moved to the alarmingly green substance in front of him that Adam would no doubt describe as heaven on a cone. He looked up at Adam again, met his stern eyes, and did as he was told.

It tasted sour. Like the green apples his mother used to force him to eat when he was little. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Adam said, and he marched to the other end of the room. “This is one of my -- I practically _ran_ to get here before it melted. And you don’t even… geez.” 

“Sorry,” Kris said a little sheepishly and Adam threw him a look from across the room, swirling his tongue around the edges of the cone, still wearing his leather jacket. 

“You just wait,” he said in between licks, pointing at him with his pinkie finger. “I’m not giving up.” 

And he didn’t. The next morning – Kris was just stepping out of the shower – Adam opened the door to their bathroom without bothering to knock and presented him with a cone with yellow ice cream. 

“Here,” he said, “pumpkin pie”, and Kris swallowed his protests because the ice was melting fast and he didn’t necessarily feel like having melted ice cream all over the bathroom floor, cleaning ladies or no. 

“Hm,” he said after getting a taste. “It’s… nice.”

Adam’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “Nice? I’m setting the alarm for a _nice?_ I can’t believe you.” With that, he spun around on his heels and left, leaving Kris alone in clouds of steam. 

Two days after that, Adam cornered him before his appointment with the stylists. “Nutty coconut,” he said, and with a hopeful look he followed the cone to Kris’s mouth. “This is going to be the one,” he said. “I just know it.” 

Kris took a lick, pondered for a moment and then gave the cone back to Adam. 

“And?” Adam asked, eyes huge and expectant. 

“Tastes like dusty cellars,” Kris said, and walked away. 

Behind him, Adam’s head hit the wall with a thump. 

Three days later, Kris described the New York cheese cake as “too bland”, after which Adam rolled his eyes and brought him something that was called Oreo Outrageous, which was deemed “too sweet”. The flavours – be it mint chocolate chip, tropical ice or very berry strawberry - made less of an impression on Kris than Adam’s reactions to his lukewarm responses afterwards. He whined, he wailed, he cursed, he pouted, he threatened to smother Kris with ice cream in his sleep, he vowed to room with Allison instead, whose taste buds, he said, were at least not as mutilated as Kris’s. He was, in short, being incredibly amusing most of the time, and Kris wondered that if Paula saw him like this she’d still think he was the best thing since sliced bread. 

Adam was pretty sure she would. Kris, if only for the sake of it, had his doubts.

Two weeks after the last incident (apple pie a la mode, which was tried and found not creamy enough), Adam threw his hands in the air and gave up. Kris, not used to Adam not going to every possible length to prove his point, was jubilant for a number of days and basked in the glory of victory. Then he woke up one morning and discovered it was no fun not being harassed anymore. There was, of course, no way he would ever tell Adam, so he sulked a little in silence and dropped hints here and there that it was just _so hot_ , or that he was just _craving_ something sweet. Or cold. Possibly even sweet _and_ cold. If Adam saw through him, he never let it show.

One Sunday night, Kris walked into their room to find Adam sitting on his bed, reading a magazine with a container of ice cream in his hand. He barely looked up when Kris came in, focused as he was on the article he was reading. Or the pictures he was looking at, Kris couldn’t really tell. With short intervals he brought a spoonful of pink ice cream to his mouth, and despite himself, Kris got curious.

“What’s that?” 

Adam looked up at him and then at the container. “Cherries jubilee,” he said a little protectively, as if it needed to be sheltered against Kris’s possible condemnation. “You’d hate it. Cause it’s, you know, perfect, and you have no taste.” With that, he put another spoonful in his mouth and closed his eyes in theatrical bliss. Or maybe it was real bliss. With Adam it was always kind of hard to tell the difference. 

Kris flopped down on Adam’s bed and peeked in the carton. It was almost empty. 

“Can I get some?” he asked, and Adam frowned.

“No,” he said, putting some distance between Kris and the container. “Enough ice cream has been wasted on your account. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“Please?” 

Contrary to popular belief, Kris was not above abusing his charm, and right now he was doing the puppy eyes thing, that he knew the ladies loved and Adam could resist as well as he could anything that sparkled - which was to say, not at all. 

“Fine. Here.” 

With that, Adam brought a spoonful of the creamy pink substance to Kris’s lips, and opened his mouth a little in time with Kris’s, the way people tend to do when they feed a toddler. 

As usual when tasting some of Baskin Robbins’s, Kris’s senses were assaulted. This time, however, they were assaulted in the positive meaning of the word. Letting the ice cream melt on his tongue, Kris couldn’t help but close his eyes the way Adam had just done and savour the taste. It was deliciously sweet, but not too sweet, with a hint of rum, or something. Adam had been right. This _was_ a heavenly experience. 

“Oh,” he said. _“Oh.”_

Adam, meanwhile, was looking at him as though he had grown a second head. “You like?” he asked a little redundantly, and Kris made an appreciative sound in reply.

“Why didn’t you let me try this earlier?” he asked, and snatched the spoon from Adam’s hand to help himself to some more. 

Adam let out a sound of disbelief. “I let you try every single flavour I was sure everybody loved, and then some boring ones I thought nobody could possibly love but you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kris asked between mouthfuls. “That I’m boring?” 

“No. You’re not boring. Just hard to figure out sometimes. Gimme that,” Adam said, grabbing the spoon again. 

“Well _that_ sounds like a cleverly disguised insult,” Kris said, waiting impatiently till Adam was done. 

“Nah. I like it. I mean, I hate it, but I like it. Leave me some, would you?”

Peering in the container, Adam was scandalized to discover he could actually see the bottom. Kris was looking at him guiltily, spoon still in his mouth. 

“Kristopher Allen! When I said leave me some I didn’t mean an empty carton!” He snatched the container from Kris’s hands and devoured what was left of the ice cream. “My god, I can’t believe you! First you pretend like I’m trying to poison you or something and then you act like this is the best thing you’ve ever eaten!” 

“It is,” Kris confessed. “Kinda. I mean, Katy’s stuffed duck is also pretty amazing, but—”

Adam’s eyes went wide. “Katy’s stuffed-- I don’t even…” Shaking his head, Adam threw the spoon aside and started collecting the last remains of ice cream with his finger. 

Kris watched him move his hand around in the carton, watched it reappear, his forefinger smeared with pink, and before he could stop himself, he seized Adam’s wrist and brought his finger to his lips.

He sucked it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, tasting the cherry on Adam’s skin. It was only when he let go of it when he realized that Adam was staring at him, his eyes lidded, his mouth agape.

Oh.

“Kris,” Adam said in a low, hoarse voice. “If you don’t want me to jump your bones, don’t _ever_ do that again.” 

_Oh._

It was suddenly very silent. Adam didn’t move or look away and Kris was busy getting his brains back in business. He hadn't _meant_ to suck on Adam’s finger like that, it was just that it had suddenly looked so irresistible with the ice cream dripping from it. 

“Kris?” 

He scraped his throat. “Yeah. I... um. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He gestured vaguely in the direction of Adam’s hand, careful not to look at it. “I’m sorry for eating your ice cream.” 

He gave a nervous little laugh and jumped from the bed, taking refuge in the bathroom, which was really kind of lame and obvious in terms of hiding places. He should’ve gone downstairs or something, and wait until Adam fell asleep before he returned. He couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, it wasn’t like he had to touch up his nail polish or anything. Kris put his fists to the sides of his face and squeezed his eyes shut. He was such an idiot. An _idiot!_ Adam was probably freaking out, or something. Or maybe it was just _him_ that was freaking out and Adam was just calmly reading that magazine of his again, or maybe he was – yeah. Stepping into the bathroom.

“Kris?” he said, worrying his lower lip. “You OK? You’re not hiding, are you?” 

Kris removed his hands from his face and tried to smile. “Nah,” he said, sounding as convincing as he usually did when he lied. 

Adam laughed a little. “I’m not gonna… I mean—” 

“No, no! I know! I’m sorry, I’m just being, you know.” More gesturing. His eloquence was close to nonexistent at this point. “Ridiculous. Or hard to figure out, as you’d probably put it.”

This time, Adam’s laugh was real. “I think ridiculous is quite an accurate description in this case,” he said, and he shook his head, rubbing at his chin with his hand. The hand whose finger Kris had just sucked on. Kris stared, blinked, and realized from the smile that dried on Adam’s face that he had just wasted a perfect opportunity to laugh it all away and pretend it had never happened. 

Then again…

“Adam,” he said, surprising himself with his sudden courage. “Come here.” 

Adam looked at him a little hesitantly, as if Kris was about to order him to do seventeen one handed push ups. But Adam did what he was told and slowly moved towards Kris, his eyes scanning Kris’s face carefully. 

“I just wanna...” Kris said, looking intently at Adam’s lips and moving closer toward him. “Do you think…”

“What, Kris?” Adam said. His voice sounded positively _husky_. He licked his lips and Kris stared helplessly. He couldn’t look away. 

“I just wonder…” 

Unable to finish his sentence, Kris leaned in and pressed his lips to Adam's, who responded to his kiss with a force that made him stumble backwards a little. Twining his fingers in Adam’s hair, he pushed his lips into Adam’s and let himself be pressed against the wall. Adam stepped in closer and cupped Kris’s face in his hands and he kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until Kris’s head started to buzz a little. Adam was as good at kissing as he was at everything else, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was, kind of like how Adam had found the right kind of ice cream for him after all. 

After awhile Adam pulled away and kissed his jaw and his neck and Kris let his head drop against the wall in bliss. 

“Know what?” he said, and Adam moved up to look at him with smiling eyes.

“Mmm?” he asked, kissing the corner of his mouth, then tugging at his lower lip with his teeth. 

“The cherry stuff. It tastes even better from your tongue.”

Grinning, Adam licked into his mouth. God yes. It _so_ did.

 

-end-


End file.
